


Kindred Souls

by DJ Orlovský (djorlovsky)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-06 02:11:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djorlovsky/pseuds/DJ%20Orlovsk%C3%BD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you think a former Death Eater and a Squib spend their free evenings at Hogwarts? (A story in seven chapters for the seven books + prologue.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Translated from Czech by pimpinella

Filch pulled out his mop from the bucket and with angry muttering began cleaning away the remnants of squished flobberworms from the floor.

"Little, blasted, ungrateful ... " Filch fumed.

"What are you doing?"

Filch turned around. There was the young Potions Master at the door and his black eyes watched him with suspicion. Although this man was a teacher at Hogwarts two years already, Filch didn't see him much. The professor was a taciturn loner who rarely left his office and quarters.

"I'm cleaning, professor," Filch grated out, the question making him angry.

"I can see that," said the professor coldly.

Snape – that was his name, remembered Filch.

"Why are you doing it now, in the middle of the night?"

"Because I couldn't get to it earlier. I'm up to my eyes in work!" Filch tried to keep his tone respectful.

Professor Snape watched him laboriously scrub away bits of flobberworms stuck to the floor before saying: "Let it be. Mr Weasley serves his detention tomorrow. I think I have just found the right task for him."

Filch straightened up and looked at Snape in surprise. In all his miserable time in this school, this was the first professor who made the smallest attempt to alleviate his difficult ordeal.

***

Filch sat on the stairs trying to put Mrs Norris's forth paw into a warm gaiter, but she was putting up a good fight.

"Come on, you know how your paws got frostbitten last week," Filch coaxed her.

"You are going to Hogsmeade?"

Filch looked up and his eyes met the black orbs of the Potions Master. He was still trying to force Mrs Norris's kicking leg into the gaiter and thus managed only to nod his head.

"Pick this up for me and bring it to my office in the evening," Snape said and handed him a folded piece of paper.

If Filch were honest with himself, he took it from him only because he was fascinated by his long slim fingers.

***

Filch knocked at the door to the professor's office and after a reserved invitation he entered. Embarrassed, he clutched a crumpled box in his hands while Mrs Norris entwined his ankles.

"The cat will stay outside," Snape ordered without looking at Filch.

Filch stopped in his tracks and wondered if he shouldn't take offence.

"What did you do with it?" Snape snapped. He crossed the room in a few strides, pushed Mrs Norris out into the hallway and as soon as the door was closed he snatched the box from Filch's chilled fingers.

"I'm sorry, the road was icy," said Filch defensively.

"Oh, really, ice in January? Who would've thought?" Snape sneered.

Filch wanted to be affronted but the Potions Master had just opened the box to check the contents and Filch's curiosity got the better of him. As inconspicuously as he could he craned his neck.

"Curious?" Snape sneered and took out a bag with some herbal blend.

Filch watched raptly as he opened the bag, careful not to spill its contents. Then he took out a piece of white paper from his desk and poured some of the fragrant mixture onto it. Then he rolled it all into a neat cigarette. Those hands – Filch didn't know anyone with such hands. And the way he furrowed his brow in concentration ...

Snape lit the cigarette, took a drag and blew out smoke. Then he handed it Filch.

Filch hesitated.

"Go on, sate your curiosity," Snape invited him in a slightly mocking tone, but Filch almost didn't notice because it certainly wasn't his "curiosity" that he thought of in connection with the word sate.

At last he reached with his hand for the cigarette. He didn't want to be put to shame. He slipped the cigarette into his mouth as he had seen Snape do it a moment before, took a drag, and went into a coughing fit.

"You shouldn't inhale it when you aren't used to it," Snape sneered and took the cigarette back from the coughing man.

"What the hell is this?" spluttered Filch.

"Medicine," answered Snape vaguely and leaned against the edge of the table.

"For what?" asked Filch surprised.

"Nerves," said Snape.

"Hm, that's something I could use too," murmured Filch. "For nerves," he added when he saw Snape raise a questioning eyebrow.

"Really?" drawled Snape.

"Because of the damned students," complained Filch.

"Ah yes, they are an annoying lot," agreed Snape. "They can never appreciate the precise and exacting art of potions; they have no sense of a work well done."

"Exactly," agreed Filch. "They detest work. All they know how to do is taunt."

"And disrupt classes."

"Shout in the hallways."

"Wander in the night."

"And the Dungbombs!" groaned Filch.

"Don't get me started on those," Snape scoffed. "Last week they wanted to let one loose in the classroom." His ugly smile suggested that the students not only didn't carry out their plan, but they came to deeply regret that they have ever attempted it.

Filch started to feel certain affection towards Snape. At the very least the man shared his view at the world and understood him. He could like his cat better, though, Filch thought.

"Well, I'll get on my way," decided Filch.

Snape watched his retreating back and when Filch reached the door he said: "You can stop by ... from time to time."

And Filch realised that he would – and quite willingly.

***

Filch stood in front of the Potions master's office door and hesitated. Snape did say that he could stop by, but it was a rather half-hearted invitation. It could very well have been made out of courtesy. Despite that, Filch was there and was gathering his courage to knock. Severus Snape was the only person in the school he could talk to, with the exception of Mrs Norris.

Suddenly the door opened and Snape almost ran into him. They found themselves unexpectedly close together and Filch noticed, incidentally, that Snape smelled like the herb he had smoked the last time.

"What are you doing standing behind the door?" barked Snape irritably.

"I - I was just passing by and thought – thought I could drop by," Filch said hesitantly.

Snape had cocked his head to one side as if he were considering something.

"There's something you will do for me," Snape decided and went back to his office.

Filch followed him. Snape took a package from his desk and handed it to Filch. Filch noticed that Lucius Malfoy's address was written on it in Snape's handwriting. Even as a Squib one couldn't live in the wizarding world and not hear about the Malfoys.

"Go to the Owlery and send it with a school owl," Snape ordered and headed to the door.

When Filch returned to the office Snape wasn't there yet. Filch decided to wait for him so he could tell him that the package was sent.

Snape arrived barely five minutes later, a piece of parchment in hand and a scowl on his face.

"The incompetent hag!" seethed Snape, letting off his steam.

"Did something happen?" asked Filch sympathetically.

"Did something happen? Of course it did! Pomfrey isn't able to give me the list of potions she wants me to provide in time, and she has the audacity to …" Snape threw the parchment on his table. "I have no idea what Dumbledore thinks he will save by not buying the potions," vented Snape his anger, pulling out a worn pouch from his robes and drawing out a somewhat wrinkled cigarette from inside.

He lit the cigarette and blissfully blew out smoke.

"Dumbledore is a curse," Snape grimaced.

Filch nodded and when Snape offered him the cigarette he carefully inhaled. He was just returning it to Snape when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," said Snape without much interest.

"Severus, professor McGonagall came to see me," began Dumbledore as soon as he entered.

"So?" sneered Snape.

"She tells me you have taken two hundred more points from Gryffindor." Dumbledore regarded Snape over the rim of his glasses.

"So?" Snape refused to be goaded and continued his smoking.

"Do you really believe that it was just?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," nodded Snape.

"Professor McGonagall feels that you are biased," Dumbledore smiled slightly.

"So?" Snape didn't intend to cooperate.

Dumbledore sighed.

"Well, Severus, I simply wish to ask you to try and be a bit more objective," Dumbledore said emphatically and his gaze wandered to the cigarette in Snape's hand. "And if you really have to smoke this – do it somewhere else, will you?"

"Tsss," Snape hissed like an irritated rattlesnake when the door closed after Dumbledore, but stubbed his joint out.

***

Filch leaned against the door and with some strain managed to open it halfway. They wouldn't move any further. So he slipped into the old classroom. On one rickety desk sat Snape, smoking.

Filch looked around.

"To be rid of Dumbledore comes at a price," shrugged Snape. "Do you have it?"

Filch nodded and showed him the parcel Snape had sent him for. This time, he brought it in good condition.

"I would grow it myself, but here?" Snape sneered as he took the parcel from Filch.

"Isn't it – dangerous?" asked Filch sitting down on the wobbly desk next to Snape.

"Who cares?" Snape shrugged and offered him his cigarette. "No, it isn't," he added when he saw Filch's hesitation.

"I thought this is them, drugs," demanded Filch returning the joint to Snape.

"Alcohol is a drug as well, and Sibyll Trelawney still drinks like a fish." snorted Snape.

"That's true," agreed Filch and this time reached out for the cigarette on his own.

"Another dreadful day gone by," Snape rubbed between his shoulders. "You can't even go to the bathroom, because the moment you turn your back the brats destroy something or maim themselves."

"And when you manage to get to the bathroom, you find it flooded by Moaning Myrtle," nodded Filch.

"Or the brats are snogging there silly," sneered Snape. "The other day I caught a sixth-year in the boy's bathroom."

"They are at it all the time," frowned Filch. "Swines, they don't even have the decency to clean after themselves."

"In this case it got a bit out of hand. They are a bunch of idiots who don't use their heads." Snape shook his head.

Filch looked at him.

"He attempted anal sex with a narrow bottle of shampoo," explained Snape.

"Really?" Filch couldn't hide his interest.

Snape didn't look at him, but his lips curled up in a sneer. "Don't try it," he said after a moment. "Or you won't be able to get it out either."

Filch flushed.

"What is it?" asked Snape, amused.

Filch reddened even more and didn't speak.

"Do you find the idea of a shampoo bottle up the arse intriguing?" continued Snape in conversational tone and surreptitiously watched Filch's reaction. "Wouldn't a big fat cock be better?"

Filch felt his face glow hot. At the same time, Snape's words found response in his crotch. The image of Snape sticking his dick into Filch's arse – Filch gulped.

"I," his voice betrayed him and he had to clear his throat. "I said no such thing."

"Oh, sure," Snape stubbed out his joint and jumped down from the desk. "Have you ever done it?"

Filch opened and closed his mouth.

"I'm asking whether you've ever fucked. Either nod or shake your head," Snape said sharply.

Filch convulsively shook his head.

"Fine, everyone has their first time," Snape shrugged and to Filch's amazement turned his back to him and started unbuttoning his trousers.

"What- what- what do you want to do?" stammered Filch and felt his cock harden just from the thought that Snape would be willing – willing to ... with him ...

"Fuck, what did you think?" Snape replied, let his trousers slide down to his ankles and pulled down his underwear. Then he rested his hands on the rickety desk and looked through his curtain of black hair at Filch.

"I- I-" Filch faltered.

"I don't appreciate having to wait," said Snape forcefully.

Filch gulped and took off his trousers.

"And what- what do I do?" Filch asked, unsure.

"Take a guess," scoffed Snape.

Filch approached him from behind and pressed to him. He could feel his erection brushing against Snape's skinny bottom.

"Well, do it already," Snape urged him.

Filch bit his bottom lip and pushed against Snape's hole. Snape lowered his head and spread his legs a bit more, as far as the trousers around his ankles would let him.

"Shouldn't we," began Filch but Snape's growl told him to be quiet. He pushed on, then, and felt himself slide further and further into Snape's body. He thought it unbelievable that he could fit in at all. He heard Snape hiss.

"Damn, you didn't say ..." Snape groaned.

When he was fully sheathed, Filch didn't start thrusting immediately. It was a weird feeling, to be inside the tight arse, and he wanted to relish it.

"Filch," Snape whispered with head lowered almost to the desk.

Filch started to thrust slowly, speeding up with every move. He fucked Snape's arse mercilessly and it seemed that the Potions Master was satisfied. If only the desk didn't creak so much.

Filch closed his eyes. He would always pull out almost completely and then push in to the hilt.

Snape was panting and moaning. He leaned on the desk with one hand and jerked off with the other.

Filch gripped Snape's hips and with a few quick thrusts reached his climax. Snape followed him almost immediately and his semen spilled over the stone floor.

Filch carefully pulled his softening cock out of Snape's arse.

Snape bent down for his trousers and grimaced painfully.

"The technique will need working on," he remarked off-handedly. "And perhaps a mattress wouldn't go amiss."

Filch kept quiet and tried to process what had just happened.

"I hope you won't be so stupid as to tell someone about it," Snape pierced him with his gaze.

Filch zealously shook his head.

"By the way, Filch, that's a cock worthy of a stallion, that you have," sneered Snape. "You could have warned me, man, you know."

But Filch had a feeling that the professor didn't see his above-average endowment as a flaw, rather the opposite.


	2. Chapter 2

A muffled thud of a door outside in the hallway was followed by shuffling footsteps. The heavy oak door opened a crack with a lot of creaking and then became stuck and the newcomer had to push to create a crevice wide enough to squeeze into the room.

It was gloomy inside. The only source of light was a narrow window high under the ceiling. The window wasn't even real, because the old classroom was in one of the lower floors of the dungeons. There had probably never been any lessons held here anyway. Old desks piled up by the opposite wall were covered in a hundred-year-old layer of dust and enveloped with cobwebs. There was a damp and stale air about the place.

"Someone should do something about the blasted door," Filch complained, sitting down on an old mattress which, thanks to a charm, emitted pleasant heat.

"Hm," Snape murmured, not opening his eyes.

Filch scrutinized the Potions Master – Snape sat next to him, back leaned against the wall and legs stretched out, looking tired.

"Hard day?" Filch asked sympathetically.

"Longbottom melted his third cauldron in one month, Goyle nearly poisoned himself with fumes from his potion, Belesey got wizard measles and Parkinson her first menstruation, and that is not mentioning that McGonagall forced the Potter brat into her house's Quidditch team and Dumbledore – Dumbledore gets on my nerves habitually. So yeah, I'd say that today was pretty hard," Snape hissed irritably.

"Dumbledore is one of the worst things that has ever happened to this school," Filch said after a moment of silence.

"You are beginning to sound like Lucius," Snape said, disgusted. "He sent me another owl just this morning. The snob thinks I have nothing better to do than mollycoddle his spoilt little son."

Snape sat up, crossed his legs and pulled a small worn pouch out of his robes. He opened it and his long, thin fingers took from inside a roll of white paper and a small wooden box. Snape separated one sheet of paper from the roll and laid it down on the mattress.

Filch never got tired watching Snape's hands as they shook fragrant herbs from the wooden box and rolled it all up. Filch almost mechanically took out matches and silently handed them to the Potions Master. Snape accepted them without a thank you and lit up his joint. He took a slow drag and handed it to Filch.

"We are ruining our health with this," Filch said and after a short hesitation accepted the joint.

"Everyone has to die from something," Snape said indifferently. "I have no desire to live into senility like Dumbledore," he added after taking another drag.

"Do you reckon Dumbledore is senile?" Filch asked and took two drags before returning the cigarette to Snape.

"Of course he is," Snape nodded. "Always was," he sneered and inhaled the smoke with relish.

"He is a bit old for this job as well," Filch said and as always tried to mirror Snape's careless yet elegant way of holding the cigarette.

"Downright ancient," Snape snorted and stretched his legs. "He should retire and wait peacefully for the Grim Reaper to take him, but of course he can't do that. He has to meddle all the time." He reached to Filch for the joint.

"Someone should replace him. Someone who would know how to rule this school," Filch agreed. "Someone like you." He smiled sycophantically and watched as Snape thoughtfully blew out smoke.

"Yes." Snape nodded and either he couldn't or didn't want to see Filch's outstretched hand, and the joint stayed in his hand while he dreamily stared somewhere ahead. "I'd rule the school quite differently."

"Undoubtedly better," Filch agreed.

"I'd put everything in order," Snape said forcefully and handed Filch the cigarette.

"Students would be obliged to show the staff more respect, wouldn't they?" Filch smiled.

"Definitely. And I wouldn't stand for breaking the rules and for Potters."

"And for mud on the stairs," Filch added.

"And Quirrell would be sacked."

"And the dolt Hagrid, too."

"And I'd teach Defense."

"And throw out Peeves."

"Merlin, I'd eat something," Snape announced, stubbed out the rest of his joint and got to his feet.

Filch got up.

"The kitchen?" he asked Snape when they went to the door.

"No, to Hagrid," muttered Snape. "Of course to the kitchen, Filch!"

 

This late in the evening the kitchen was empty. The house-elves spent the night cleaning up in the castle.

"Do you want some?" Filch asked and picked up a tray with treacle tart.

"I won't eat anything the sniveling brats might have touched," Snape snorted and headed for the larder.

He opened its door and surveyed the stock. His eyes and taste buds were drawn to a ham hanging from a hook. He came back for a knife and cut a slice to taste it. "Such a waste of food," he muttered, his mouth full. "Cold cereal and milk would be enough for the little bastards."

Snape took the ham of the hook, found a cutting board and went to the table on which Filch was seated, stuffing himself full of the treacle tart. He sat down beside him.

"At least we know what our taxes are used for." Snape sneered and cut another slice of the lean meat.

"For fattening up those little bastards," Filch said.

Snape nodded and cut a slice of ham for him as well, then he wiped his hands on his trousers and took out his worn pouch.

"Here?" Filch asked, unsure.

Snape only curled his lip and rolled up another joint.

"It was a very hard day," he said as he lit the cigarette.

He closed his eyes, laid down on his back and blissfully took a drag.

"It's almost as good as sex," he sneered and ran a hand over his crotch.

Filch almost forgot to breathe as he watched Snape absentmindedly rub his lap. Snape looked as if he had forgotten both about Filch and his cigarette. His eyes were closed, his face was peaceful and relaxed and through the cloth of his trousers he massaged his cock with his palm. Perhaps the professor's hand had slipped a bit this time and the joint was a bit more potent than usual. Filch couldn't find any other explanation for Snape's behaviour, and he couldn't get enough of the sight. They slept together pretty regularly but it was always dark and somewhere in private where they could hardly be disturbed. They often didn't even shed their clothes properly, taking off only what they absolutely had to. Filch never voiced any objections because he was painfully aware that he was no beauty and his age didn't make him more attractive either. Thus Filch never had the opportunity to see the Potions Master in his full naked beauty.

The butt end fell from Snape's hand. His breathing got slower and his pale face turned pink with arousal.

Arousal which Filch could almost feel, almost taste. He slid from the table, pushed Snape's hand aside and unbuttoning his trousers freed his erection.

Snape moaned when his drug-intensified senses felt cool air on the hot smooth skin of his cock.

Filch closed his fingers around Snape's cock which stood so obscenely out of his unbuttoned fly, and pulled at it lightly, just enough to elicit another groan of pleasure from Snape. Just the sound itself was more arousing than seemed possible. Filch gently rubbed the swollen head just as Snape liked it and quite openly studied the man. Filch wasn't satisfied though; he wanted to see more skin. He hiked up Snape's robes and shirt and ran his fingers over Snape's taut stomach.

Snape groaned. When he lifted his hips up to thrust into Filch's palm, Filch used the opportunity to pull Snape's trousers and underwear down as low as he could. Then it was easy to pull them off completely and Filch could take delight in the view of Snape's body, naked from his waist down. Filch freed his own eager cock and on second try managed to pull up Snape's legs and rest them upon his shoulders. Filch slowly breached him, which Snape loudly appreciated. It was music to Filch's ears. He pushed in to the hilt and waited a moment before he began thrusting.

Filch held Snape's legs and fucked him with long, hard thrusts. Snape kept muttering incoherently and the only distinguishable word was yes, repeated again and again like some sort of chant. Filch relished the sight of Snape's cock jerking between his thighs.

Snape came first, spilling his seed all over his robes and shirt. The muscles of his arse constricted around Filch like a vice and literally milked him.

"Damn," Filch wheezed when he caught his breath and let Snape's legs fall down.

Snape dizzily sat up and slid off the table to stand on slightly unsteady feet. He pulled his robes down and looked around for his trousers. Filch righted himself and waited for the Potions master to say something.

"Next time, bring some snacks, Filch," Snape muttered, buttoning up his trousers.


	3. Chapter 3

A loud thud on the door was followed by a bang and the sound of something metal falling down the stairs.

Snape curled his lip. "Do you have to make so much noise, Filch?" he asked and took a drag from his joint.

Cursing, Filch squeezed through the half-open door and threw a dented bucket on the floor.

"This is a sabotage! This is the second bucket in one week which tried to bite off my – bite me." Filch's face was red but it was hard to tell whether more from anger or shame.

"What a tragedy," said Snape and nodded to the place on the desk beside him.

Filch fumed,"Little, wretched, disgusting, lousy ba-"

Snape silenced him by offering him his joint, Filch took a drag and blissfully blew out a smoke.

"Bastards," he finished his rant. "And when I tell Dumbledore about it he does nothing. Nothing. NOTHING!"

"I've heard you, I'm not deaf," Snape scoffed and took the cigarette away from him. "What do you expect, Filch, this is Dumbledore. Tell him that You-Know-Who is preparing to strike, and Dumbledore will rouse half the ministry. Tell him that the brats are stealing from your supplies and he will merely smile his manic smile of a senile old man and wave it away."

"Someone stole from you?" Filch was all agape.

"I didn't say that," Snape muttered and handed Filch the joint.

"It's still unprecedented how far the students dare to go." Filch frowned. "Potter arrives in that stolen car and nothing happens. He paws through my personal correspondence – and nothing again! He attacks my cat –"

"Filch, such an ignoramus as Potter could've hardly attacked your cat. A spell of that kind requires brains, which rules out Mr Potter and effectively any other student at this school." Snape sneered and took the joint back from Filch.

"And Dumbledore? He just says be patient, we shall cure her soon," fumed Filch.

Snape handed him the half smoked joint and took a worn pouch from his robes.

"I feel like shagging," Snape remarked offhandedly.

Filch, however, paid attention to his joint, kept muttering unflatteringly about Dumbledore, and didn't hear Snape.

"And that fop Lockhart -"

Snape looked at Filch a bit peevishly.

"Just to think that he told me, me you see, that he could help me, that ... that ..." Filch was so agitated that he opted for taking another drag, rather than finishing his thought.

"Ah yes, Lockhart," scoffed Snape and lit a new cigarette. "A dolled up ponce with the intelligence and abilities of Neville Longbottom. I can tell Dumbledore a hundred times that I'm fully qualified to teach Defence – and in fact he knows that I am. Every time he just shoots me that mock-indulgent smile of his and launches into a speech about my own good."

"I can't believe that the ponce has the audacity to act superior to me! And Dumbledore puts up with it! I'm telling you, Dumbledore is –" Filch choked.

Snape looked up and saw Dumbledore in person, standing in the doorway. Snape apparently didn't find the silence in the least awkward; however, Filch fidgeted and tried to hide his joint, which only brought more attention to it.

Dumbledore broke the silence, "I have been looking for you, Severus."

"Clearly." Snape smiled slightly and with a certain impudence took a drag from his cigarette and blew out the smoke.

"It seems a few students were experimenting with potions and it got a bit out of hand," Dumbledore said. "Mr Talbot has complications and absolutely refuses to take them to Madam Pomfrey."

"Mr Talbot?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "And here I thought I was going to hear about Mr Potter."

Snape took a drag again and briefly closed his eyes in pleasure. "What is it that he can't take it to Pomfrey?" he asked.

"It seems that his ... erm ... phallus split." Dumbledore winced slightly.

"His what?" Filch interjected.

"His dick split in two," explained Snape. "That's what happens when they try to brew aphrodisiacs and fail in potions."

It split? mouthed Filch and his eyes glinted.

"It can wait till morning. At least he won't do it again," said Snape in a bored tone.

After a moment, Dumbledore nodded to express his acceptance of Snape's decision. On his way out, however, his gaze lingered a split second longer than it should have on the cigarette in Snape's hand.

"Do you want some?" Snape asked.

Filch looked at Snape almost disbelievingly.

"I –" Dumbledore took a breath but Snape was already on his feet, handing him his joint.

"For nerves," Snape said.

Filch gave Dumbledore a dark look.

Dumbledore hesitated a moment but then he accepted the joint. When he took a drag Filch couldn't suppress a snort. And when he started coughing, Filch felt malicious glee.

"You shouldn't inhale it when you aren't used to it," he advised a bit snappishly.

"So this is how you two spend your evenings?" Dumbledore asked, seated himself on one of the rickety desks and took another drag. He was more careful this time, but still coughed.

"Better than playing bridge," sneered Snape and extended his hand towards Dumbledore to take the joint back.

"I thought you'd given this up," remarked Dumbledore.

"As I've said, it's good for nerves." Snape shrugged.

Filch made an inconspicuous gesture which was supposed to convey to Snape that he should show Dumbledore out as soon as possible. Snape either didn't see it or he didn't understand it.

"These days everyone needs something for nerves," Dumbledore nodded.

And Filch's stomach plummeted. What if Snape didn't want to understand his gesture?!

"Are they going to close the school?" asked Snape and after taking a drag offered the joint to Dumbledore.

Filch felt as if he was loosing his exceptionality, his unique place in his Potions master's life. It was he, only he, who could once a week sit in this musty room, smoke with Snape, and, when Snape wanted, have a good fuck. Filch's feelings were bordering on jealousy.

"Very probably." Dumbledore sighed and took a drag.

Filch wondered how to get rid of the headmaster because he more and more felt that he needed to prove to Snape that he was the only one who could fuck him this well. And that it would be therefore advisable for Snape to stop chatting with the headmaster and send him on his way. Although the idea what Dumbledore might do if Filch were to bend Snape over a desk and drive his cock into Snape's arse held a certain apppeal. The only failing of this image was that it was followed by the thought of what Snape would probably do to him. There was nothing Snape could do to him for his ideas, though. Filch moved a bit and inconspicuously rearranged his trousers which began to feel rather tight in the front.

What if he got to his feet right now? He would twist Snape's hands behind his back and press him against the desk. Snape wouldn't wrench away, Filch was sure of that. Not that Snape didn't have any strength in his arms, but strength wasn't everything. And Snape didn't know how to fight.

Filch imagined Dumbledore's shocked expression when he would pull down Snape's trousers. And a spark of amazement when Filch would show him how nature had endowed him. Snape would, without a doubt, call him names and Dumbledore would make a quick retreat. Or would he join them? Would the Headmaster of Hogwarts watch his caretaker thrust his above-average cock into his Potions master's skinny, pale and so deliciously tight arse? Who knows, perhaps it would turn the old geezer on, too. Although Filch doubted that Dumbledore had anything between his legs anything that could work. So why was Snape chatting with Dumbledore instead of sending him to hell?

Filch was so preoccupied with his thoughts spurned by jealousy and spite towards Dumbledore that he noticed he was leaving only when Dumbledore said, "You should cut the smoking," and disappeared through the half-open door.

Snape stubbed the joint out and fixed his eyes on Filch. Or rather on the bulge in his trousers.

"Are you planning to go hold Mrs Norris's paw or are we going to fuck?" asked Snape matter-of-factly.


	4. Chapter 4

Filch halted in puzzlement. Never before had he found the door to the classroom where he met with the Potions master every Friday closed. That was perhaps partly due to the fact that it couldn't be opened properly, not to mention it couldn't be closed either. Despite that, the door was closed today. Filch pulled at the doorknob and pushed at the door with all his strength. As soon as he created a wide enough crease he squeezed inside.

Snape sat on their mattress, smoking. When Filch entered Snape looked up and pinned him with an especially unpleasant glare.

"All those safety measures, all the extra work and on the top of that those horrible Dementors," snarled Filch as he lowered himself beside Snape.

Snape looked at him with disgust and didn't offer him his joint. At least not yet. Filch knew Snape was an odd sort of fellow and that he sometimes had to be patient.

"Dumbledore put me in charge of restoring the Fat Lady – that's just like him to force a thankless job on someone else, so he doesn't have to do it himself," complained Filch.

Snape didn't even look at him.

"And this Lupin – can you imagine that he ..."

"Filch, shut up," hissed Snape.

Thus Filch ceased trying to start up a conversation and for a while they sat in a companionable silence.

When Snape stubbed out his cigarette, Filch decided to make the first move. After all, they didn't meet here to indulge in silence together. He laid his hand on Snape's thigh and slowly began to move it towards the professor's groin.

"Is this the only thing that's on your mind, Filch?" Snape sputtered.

Filch's hand stopped still mere inches from it's longed for destination.

"I thought –" Filch began, confused.

"You'd do better if you didn't think," snarled Snape. "And if you got out," he added.

"You mean out – out of here?" stuttered Filch.

"Exactly – out and preferably far away!" Snape hissed.

Filch open and closed his mouth several times like a fish out of water, and then he got up and left.

****

"And than he threw me out. For no reason at all." Filch scooped cat hair from the brush.

Mrs Norris jumped down from his lap and headed for her bowl.

"I don't understand it." Filch sighed and got up to pour Mrs Norris some dry food.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asked his cat.

Mrs Norris meowed, interested more in the bag of dry food Filch had in his hand than in his misery.

"Do you think he's angry with me?" Filch said worried.

Mrs Norris rubbed against his leg.

"What if the 'out and preferably far away' meant that he's tired of me?" Filch was quite shocked by that possibility and lost in his thought as he was, he returned the bag of dry food into the shelf.

Mrs Norris wrinkled her nose in disgust and went to hunt down a mouse or, better, a house-elf, leaving Filch to solve his troubles as best as he could without her keeping him company.

*****

Snape threw the stub on the floor.

"Where the hell is Filch holed up?" he grumbled angrily.

He had been waiting for him there for ages. He decided not to wait any longer and to take it out on Filch later. What did the man play at anyway, failing to come like this?

*****

Filch replaced a bottle of stain remover back on its shelf in a broom cupboard he used for storing his cleaning supplies. Those disgusting brats scrawled all over the desks. It would be hard to count how many times he had complained about it to Dumbledore and how many times no one was punished. Today he had to scrub out countless offensive words and poor drawings - a considerable amount concerned him, although the snivelling brats had the Potions master as their main subject. One scribble he had left untouched though. It claimed: Dumbledore has a withered little winkle.

For a moment he pondered who might have written it. This moment of distraction proved almost fatal to him - someone grabbed him by his clothes and swiped him inside the cupboard. Filch was pressed to the wall so forcefully he almost lost his breath.

Filch blinked.

"Who do you think you are?" hissed the Potions master.

"Par- pardon?" stuttered Filch.

Snape didn't answer. Instead he roughly turned him against the wall and reached with his hand into his robes. Filch froze, afraid of Snape's intentions. But Snape merely made Filch's trousers disappear and returned the wand back into his robes. Then he hooked his fingers at the band of Filch's underwear and literally ripped it away.

Snape savagely jerked Filch backwards and forced him to bend over. Filch allowed it without protests because he already suspected what was about to happen. He tried not to let it show how much imagining Snape's next action excited him. After all, Snape not only never expressed an interest in exchanging their roles, but also undoubtedly intended this to be a punishment, a show of his dominance. And that was arousing.

Snape breached him hard, almost brutally without preparation, which only reinforced Filch's impression that it was supposed to be a punishment. And at first it was. Filch's eyes almost watered with tears from the pain, but all unpleasant sensations gradually melted in the heat of his lust and transformed into pure pleasure.

Filch came first and Snape followed almost immediately. For a few moments they didn't move. For the first time, Filch was apprehensive of the moment he would have to look Snape in the face.

Snape stepped back and buttoned up his trousers. Filch felt a bit embarrassed, standing there in that broom cupboard naked from the waist down under the fierce look of those black eyes.

"Don't make me wait ever again, Filch," said Snape quietly and there was a dangerous undertone to his voice. Then he turned around and pushed through the door, which closed after him with a thud.

Filch looked around and to his relief found his trousers on the floor. When he bent to pick them up a content smile played on his lips. Snape not only hadn't lost interest in their meetings, but he showed he was as good a top as he was a bottom. Filch promised himself to subject this discovery to careful study.


	5. Chapter 5

Filch squeezed through the half-open door and sat down on the mattress beside the Potions master who lazily watched puffs of smoke drift up to the stone ceiling.

"Professor Sprout arrived a moment ago and muddied the whole Entrance Hall. I don't understand why not even the staff can have a bit of respect for –"

"And the headmaster?" Snape said interrupting Filch's vituperation.

"As far as I know, he isn't back from his holidays yet. But no one tells me anything here," complained Filch.

Snape took a drag from his cigarette, knocked off the ashes and offered it to Filch, who accepted it without hesitation.

"You aren't going to tell me what's happening, are you?" Filch asked in his most sycophantic tone, returning Snape the cigarette.

"What makes you think anything is happening, Filch?" answered Snape with a question – his tone was bored as if it were of no consequence.

"I may be a Squib, but I'm not an idiot!" Filch exploded angrily but under Snape's black glare he subsided immediately and more quietly and humbly murmured, "Well, one hears things."

"Eavesdropping isn't exactly a virtue," sneered Snape, who paused long enough to blow out smoke and again turned his attention to its drift up to the ceiling.

"But otherwise you are right - something is happening," agreed Snape at last, but it didn't look like he intended to tell Filch anything specific.

Filch had a sneaking feeling Snape wasn't referring to the school, for he wore this strange, pensive expression.

"I've asked the headmaster again to throw out Peeves," said Filch when the silence seemed to stretch too long. "And again he refused! That's the –"

"Filch." Snape stubbed out his joint. "Shut up and divest yourself."

Filch indeed fell silent. He got to his feet, took off his waistcoat and started unbuttoning his shirt.

Snape raised a questioning eyebrow and Filch stopped, unsure.

"I ... well, I thought that ... that we could try something new," explained Filch sheepishly.

"Are we married?" asked Snape in disgust.

"No, no ... I didn't mean it that way! I just ... I just thought ...thought ..." Filch stuttered.

"You would do best if you didn't think," muttered Snape.

Filch let his hands fall to his sides, feeling ridiculous. What the hell had he thought, gathering his courage to do this for months? And only because Snape had fucked him once. Fucked him downright exquisitely. But only once. And as a punishment. How on earth did Filch come to the conclusion that it meant something more? How could he have been so naïve? As if he didn't know Snape for years.

"Well, do continue, Filch." Snape's voice brought him from his gloomy thoughts. "Or did you lose your courage?"

Filch was taken aback by the Potions master's unexpectedly favourable attitude. But not for long. He couldn't let this chance pass. He knelt beside Snape on the mattress, but he felt as if his courage had simply left him. He nervously wiped his hands on his thighs and under the scrutiny of those Black eyes he was incapable of doing anything.

Snape sneered disdainfully, and perhaps that was what made Filch act. He buried his fingers in the black hair at the back of Snape's head, pulled Snape closer to him and kissed him.

Snape pulled away, his expression unreadable. They looked each other in the eyes so long that Filch finally couldn't bear it anymore and broke the connection.

When Snape got to his feet, Filch dared to look up. He was afraid of Snape's reaction to his daring.

Snape unbuttoned his trousers without a word and let them slide down his skinny legs to pool around his ankles. Then he hooked his fingers on the waist of his grey pants and pulled them down.

Filch swallowed.

"Well, get on with it, Filch. You wanted to try something new, didn't you?" prompted Snape.

Filch nervously licked his lips. "I ... I've never ... never …" he stuttered.

Snape cut him off. "There's a first time for everything, so don't stall, Filch."

Filch took Snape's cock carefully in his hand and pulled the foreskin back. He glanced up haltingly and wished the Potions master wouldn't stare at him. He opted for lowering his eyes again and hesitantly swiped the tip of his tongue over the exposed head. He had once heard that it tasted salty, but it didn't seem especially distinctive to him. He slowly took the limp organ into his mouth. He felt foolish. He didn't know properly what to do, where his hands should go, and Snape offered him no hints. Filch tried to use his tongue. He felt excruciatingly clumsy and that frustrated him. But these feelings lasted only until his efforts brought their first fruits. Snape drew a sharp breath and Filch could feel him grow hard in his mouth. Heartened by this success Filch intensified his efforts. When he tried pressing the flat of his tongue to the underside of Snape's cock he elicited from the Potions master a first groan. He backed off a bit to swallow the saliva that gathered in his mouth and used this pause in sucking to slip the tip of his tongue into the slit.

"Filch!" Snape croaked and gripped his shoulder almost painfully.

So Filch immediately stopped and returned to diligent licking, which was met by a much more favourable reaction, as Snape moaned softly. Filch was starting to enjoy it and, more importantly, was growing hard. He began to rub himself through his trousers and wondered what Snape would say to a bit of a hand job. He reached between Snape's legs and gently squeezed his balls. He was pleased to see Snape move his legs more apart, seemingly against his will, in search of a more stable position and longing for more intense stimulation.

Filch let Snape's now fully erect cock slide out of his mouth almost completely so he could tease lightly the soft and sensitive skin of the head. When he chanced a look up, the Potions master's eyes were closed, his head thrown back slightly and his mouth was half-open. Filch felt like a sex god, which lasted precisely to the moment when Snape buried his fingers in his hair and thrust deep into his mouth. Filch gagged. For one horrible moment he feared he would vomit. Fortunately, he managed to extricate himself from Snape's grip and pull away. He fell heavily on his backside, gasping for air. Snape's black eyes seemingly pierced Filch and he was afraid of what would follow.

Snape, without tearing his gaze from Filch for one second, closed his hand around his erection and with a few skilful strokes brought himself to completion. In other circumstances it would have been Filch's wildest dreams come true. Instead Filch only averted his face when it was hit by a spray of hot semen.

"For experimenting, Filch, find someone else," hissed Snape when he pulled on his trousers.  
Filch dared to look up only when he heard the Potions master stride away down the hallway. Experiments were out of the question then, thought Filch grimly.


	6. Chapter 6

"Close the door after yourself, Filch," ordered Snape without greeting as soon as Filch arrived to their spot as he did every Friday.

Filch had to push at the door with all his might to close it at least partially.

"Someone really should do something about that door," Filch remarked, sitting down beside the Potions master.

"Perhaps after she examines every person in this school she will turn her attention to examining the state of the doors, furniture and bathrooms," hissed Snape and stubbed out his joint next to the stub he had already smoked this evening.

"You mean Professor Umbridge?" asked Filch amazed.

"Yes, I mean the hideous toad," spat Snape and proceeded to make his third joint.

Filch clamped his mouth shut but assumed a disapproving face which Snape, immersed as he was in his outrage, didn't notice.

"Inquisition - tss," fumed Snape under his breath but his fingers rolling up the joint were sure and didn't shake one bit.

"Well, but Trelawney is incompetent – you've said that yourself," challenged Filch.

"Trelawney – yes. But the hag has the audacity to hold an inspection in my class! No one has to watch my steps! Not mine!"

Filch came to her defence, "Professor Umbridge is trying to –"

"I'm very well aware of what she's trying to do!" Snape cut him off sharply.

"But you've always said that someone should put a stop to Dumbledore's whims –"

"Filch, shut up," snarled Snape. "And kindly refrain from mentioning her ever again."

"As you wish, professor," Filch said but his voice lacked the usual servility.

Snape stubbed out his half-smoked joint and turned his eyes to Filch. Filch merely raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Do you need me to draw you a diagram for it, or what?" hissed Snape.

"A diagram?" Filch asked, confused.

Snape rolled his eyes.

"Sex, fucking, shagging – do you need me to spell it out?"

"Oh. You could've said that straight away."

Snape gave a suffering sigh while Filch began unbuttoning his trousers.

Snape couldn't stop himself from taunting, "Tut, tut, there will be no experiments today?"

"Would you like any?" Filch asked and couldn't quite suppress the hopeful note in his voice.

"What I would like is for you to stop blathering," snapped Snape and unbuttoned his trousers.

Filch said nothing, since he was apparently supposed to keep silent, waited for the Potions master to get on his hands and knees and then promptly entered him.

"Damn," hissed Snape. "A bit more gently!"

That surprised Filch a little as the Potions master usually liked it hard, but he complied. He slowed down, taking the liberty of lightly caressing the thin hips, and then he slid his hand to Snape's crotch to stroke Snape's erection. Only now did Snape relax and little by little gave in to pleasure. It occurred to Filch that today Snape needed it more than ever – to get a proper shagging. Ever since he had to give Potter remedial Potions he was unusually strained, overworked even.

Snape moaned blissfully and Filch picked up his pace.

"That's it," Snape breathed.

Filch bundled up Snape's shirt and caressed his body with one hand while stroking his cock with the other.

"More," croaked Snape.

Filch smiled. This was his Potions master. He could feel Snape clenching around him, could feel his orgasm swelling in him like a hot flood.

Snape moaned, arching his back. Filch felt hot semen spill over his palm. He clutched the lightly pulsing organ and with few short thrusts came to his own completion.

*****

Filch sat on the mattress and with a content smile rubbed Mrs Norris who was curled in his lap, purring.

"I believe I've told you very clearly that you aren't to bring the cat in here!" the Potions master's irritated voice sounded like a file screeching on metal.

"Professor Umbridge happens to think that Mrs Norris is beautiful and intelligent," returned Filch in a tone Snape had never heard from him.

"I'm not the least interested in what that old hag thinks," spat Snape. "Immediately throw the animal out or you can both go."

"I happen to know that beginning tomorrow the old hag is going to be your superior."

"Of course," sneered Snape. "No doubt it was your cat who told you that."

"I, too, have connections," said Filch complacently, "in high places."

Filch was drinking in a feeling of importance and newly gained confidence. Professor Umbridge had stressed several times how important he was to the school and that she counted on him, that she personally counted on him.

Snape angrily pressed his lips into a thin line.

"There will be changes, big changes," Filch continued in a smug tone that didn't suit him.

"Changes?" said Snape in a quiet, dangerous voice.

"How would you like a bit of experimenting, professor?" Filch looked at him and smiled.

"Are you done with the babbling?" asked Snape sharply. "I've come here to fuck, not to listen to your ridiculous illusions about what is or isn't to come."

"They're no illusions," Filch protested.

Snape sneered.

"That's the only thing I'm good for, right? To come here every Friday, pull down my trousers and fuck your brains out!" Filch exploded.

"Exactly, shall we proceed with our usual programme?" asked Snape in a bored voice. Filch's scene apparently didn't impress him. "Since you have so conveniently mentioned it?"

"You don't respect me at all," accused Filch.

"You're starting to sound like a housewife," sneered Snape. "Soon you'll want me to bring you flowers."

Filch got to his feet, Mrs Norris in his arms. "There are people who do appreciate us, who respect us," he said affronted.

"Oh yes, Umbridge, is it? Have you already made it into her bed that she appreciates you so much?" hissed Snape angrily.

Filch opened his mouth, then closed it and with offended expression headed for the door. From his arms, Mrs Norris bravely hissed at Snape.

*****

Filch leaned tiredly against a wall. He was singed and sweaty and in his hands he clutched the burned remnants of a broomstick. He didn't immediately register Snape standing in the hallway.

"Do you want anything?" Filch asked the Potions master hoarsely.

"Two of those fireworks got into the dungeons. You ought to inform your Headmistress about it, so she can go stop them. I've valuable potions there and would hate to lose them," said Snape coldly, then turned on his heel feeling gleeful pleasure when he thought of Filch and Umbridge tackling the overgrown sparklers. Of course, he could have gotten rid of them himself without going to Filch and thus keep his potions and ingredients safe. The pleasure, however, of knowing that Filch and the toad would have more problems was worth a few broken vials. Filch only deserved that for the way he dared to behave!

*****

To Filch's relief and joy the door opened a sliver after a long wait and in the crack he could see Snape's face.

"I – may I come in?" he asked sheepishly and held up the bottle in his hand.

Snape seemed to be toying with the idea of sending Filch away. The tension was thick and Filch looked like sheer misery. In the end Snape stepped away from the door and allowed Filch to enter his quarters.

Filch couldn't refrain from sweeping Snape, clad only in a long grey nightshirt, with a hungry gaze. They hadn't met for several weeks, after all.

"I'll find glasses," said Snape when the silence was growing uncomfortable.

Filch smiled gratefully.

Snape found the glasses. Filch opened his bottle of elf-made wine and poured it. They drank without toasting and the silence was again growing uncomfortable.

Filch was on the brink of apologising to Snape and asking his forgiveness when Snape took the glass from him, placed it on a table together with his and then pulled Filch into a wild and passionate kiss.

"You godforsaken bastard," whispered Snape and once more kissed him harshly and Filch understood that he wasn't interested in his apologies.

When Filch overcame the first surprise he proceeded awkwardly to return the kisses. It seemed to him that he had never got this aroused so quickly in his life. He could feel Snape's body pressing into his, noticed the hard cock hidden under the thin cloth of Snape's nightshirt and relished the hands that clumsily and eagerly tried to take off his clothes.

Snape went on pushing Filch into the bedroom, taking off his waistcoat first and then his shirt on the way. When they stepped over the threshold, Filch was already naked to his waist and Snape was trying to unbutton his trousers.

Filch noticed that the bed wasn't made. He had probably interrupted Snape, and from what he imagined, his erection throbbed.

Snape soon lost patience with the trousers and turned for his wand.

Naked, Filch felt embarrassed and sheepish in front of Snape; good thing the bedroom was only dimly lit, he thought. To cover his blush he haltingly grabbed the cloth of Snape's nightshirt and slowly pulled it up. Snape moaned quietly as the cloth rubbed against his cock.

Filch slid the nightshirt over Snape's head and for the first time could have a full look at the Potions master in his naked beauty. Well, beauty – Snape was skinny and sinewy and horribly thin. His pale skin was covered in scars but Filch liked what he saw. It didn't make him feel inferior next to his Potions master.

He laid his hand on Snape's chest and caressed one of the scars. By chance he brushed over a dark, pebbled nipple. Snape hissed and pushed Filch's hand away.

"So ..." Filch licked his lips unsure what to do next.

It seemed that Snape too was thrown aback by the unexpected turn of events. Perhaps even regretted giving into his lust, letting Filch into his bedroom.

"How would you like it?" asked Filch humbly. After all, he came here to beg his Potions master's forgiveness.

"Whatever you can offer, Filch," sneered Snape. He sat on the bed, moving back to the headboard and slightly spread his legs. It was probably meant to be an obscene, provocative pose but it seemed that at the last moment Snape had changed his mind.

I occurred to Filch that perhaps Snape was a bit embarrassed too, but if they didn't want to stare at each other the whole night, one of them would have to make the first move. And Filch knew it wouldn't be him. Not after he had angered Snape by his fleeting loyalty to Umbridge.

"Well, perhaps we could try out your tongue's abilities," sneered Snape and at last found courage to spread his thighs wide. His black eyes warned Filch not to comment on it. That didn't even enter Filch's mind though, because the view that awaited him – he'd dreamed of that every night.

He knelt on the bed between Snape's legs. When he took him in his mouth Snape gave a content sigh. Filch glanced up. Today Snape wasn't watching him; leaning on his elbows, head thrown back, he was savouring Filch's attention. Which meant Filch was more or less free to do anything he wanted and he intended to leave his best impression. He licked and sucked Snape's cock as if his life depended on it.

Soon Filch found himself out of breath. He simply didn't have enough practice to pull this off successfully. So he let Snape's cock slide out of his mouth to take a short rest. He didn't want to cease with his ministrations though and on a sudden impulse turned to lick at Snape's balls. He'd never thought it could be met with such appreciation but Snape's moaning and panting was eloquent enough. After a while Filch even took the liberty to push up Snape's legs and tease his hole with his tongue. He slid his tongue a short way inside and was delighted to feel Snape writhe in pleasure. He plunged in as deep as he could, fucking Snape with his tongue while his hand was busy on his own cock.

Filch was beginning to think that Snape could come from this alone, but he didn't intend to let that happen. He straightened up and pushed his cock into Snape's saliva-slicked hole.

The bed shook slightly and creaked softly under Filch's wild thrusts. Snape was quite vocal; Filch had never heard him enjoy their coupling this loudly. Lucky the dungeon walls were so thick.

Panting, Filch rode the tight arse for which he had longed all those long weeks when Snape refused to talk to him. He dug his fingers into Snape's pale thighs and felt like the most wonderful stallion under the sun.

Snape came quickly and wildly and Filch followed him almost immediately.

As soon as Filch caught his breath he took his softening cock out from Snape's hole and laid down beside a heavily breathing Snape.

"You're a randy bastard, Filch, you know," whispered Snape with a satisfied smirk.

Filch smiled lightly. He knew he had been forgiven.


	7. Chapter 7

Filch stopped in front of Snape's quarters with the expression of someone who had the fate of the whole Universe in his hands. He brushed imaginary specs from his shirtsleeves and hesitantly knocked.

When he had come to beg Snape's forgiveness at the end of the last school year, and they had fucked right there in Snape's bedroom, he didn't expect they would ever return to their old classroom. However, that was exactly the case. Filch wasn't quite sure why Snape decided to change their practice but he wasn't about to complain.

True, there was one thing he complained about to Mrs Norris from time to time. The Potions master was becoming reserved. Or rather, more reserved than usual.

That troubled Filch.

Snape, despite finally teaching Defence against Dark Arts, didn't seem to be terribly excited by the position. He was more often than not away, he smoked more than seemed reasonable to Filch, and, what was worst, he began losing interest in sex. That was truly alarming!

Filch noticed that the attack on that girl in Hogsmead, the poisoning of the Weasley brat, and the constant absence of the headmaster affected every member of the staff, but that couldn't be the only reason. He knew Snape too well and for too long not to suspect there was more to his peculiar behaviour.

Before, it was easy not to ask, but now something changed and Filch had a hard time keeping his mouth shut.

At last, Snape opened the door. His sallow face had even sicklier colour than usual and his piercing eyes were dulled.

Filch swallowed a question about the professor's health.

Snape looked at Filch tiredly, then stepped aside to let him pass.

When Snape gestured for him to sit down Filch felt foolish, like so many times before. The ashtray on the small table between the two armchairs was full of butt ends. The air reeked of the familiar scent of weed.

Snape leaned against a mantle and lit a fresh joint.

"Ingratitude prevails everywhere I turn," mused Snape, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

Filch had no idea what he should say. He was sure that if he tried to commiserate Snape would throw him out.

"Would you like a drink?" asked Snape and without waiting for his answer, the cigarette held seductively between his thin lips. He went over to the bookcase.

Filch felt torn between regret, compassion and awakening arousal. Snape was clad only in trousers and a shirt negligently unbuttoned halfway down his chest. It was a shame, thought Filch, that Snape didn't give in to negligence and decadence more often because it was becoming of him.

Snape took out a thick, heavy-looking tome with a gilded inscription, cracked and worn from years of use, reading Moste Potente Potions. When Snape opened the book, instead of pages, a hollow with a half-empty bottle of cognac was revealed. Snape poured two pot-bellied glasses and returned with them to the armchairs.

Filch took one glass from him, bewildered.

Snape sprawled on the opposite armchair, stretched his legs over the armrest, threw his head back, and blew out smoke.

Filch wondered how he did that without choking. He sniffed the content of his glass and took a sip. This was nothing like elf-made wine and something told Filch that he couldn't really appreciate its delicate taste. He could, however, appreciate the view Snape presented to his eyes.

Filch wondered if Snape even realised that his profile was downright fascinating, And his lips – maybe they weren't full and luscious but Filch remembered very well how they could kiss, how they tasted. He longed to taste them again. And the hand, the long fingers, clasping around his pulsing ... Filch squirmed in his seat.

Snape took a sip of his cognac without spilling a drop and Filch dearly wished to be that glass. To slide into Snape's mouth, get caressed by his tongue, his lips, gently brush against his teeth ... Filch had to put his glass down on the table because his hand shook with excitement.

Snape paid him no mind. He was deep in his own thoughts and likely had no idea what effect his silent presence had on Filch.

"What do you think about murder, Filch?" Snape's voice broke the silence.

Both the voice and the surprise that Snape was still aware of him jolted Filch and went straight to his groin. Filch almost moaned but managed to stop himself in time, biting into his tongue. He said nothing and it seemed Snape didn't mind. In his mind, however, Filch shouted that he would gladly kill if it meant Snape would get up from that blasted armchair, come to him, open his trousers and ... do something, anything.

Unfortunately, Snape didn't look like he intended to do anything of that sort. It seemed to Filch that he couldn't stand it one minute longer, that his balls would explode. He surreptitiously rearranged his trousers, lightly pressing his palm against his throbbing cock. The whole time, he didn't tear his gaze from Snape. And as the Potions master wasn't looking at him he dared to rub himself through his trousers in a desperate need for relief. Yes, that was exactly what he needed. Filch closed his eyes in pleasure – just for a moment. When he opened them again he promptly blushed.

Snape was watching him.

Filch froze in the middle of movement, licked his lips wanting to explain himself, to apologise. But then he realised Snape's eyes glittered with arousal and his face reflected a hungry, needy look.

Filch gulped and began unbuttoning his fly. He continued looking Snape in the eyes, feeling hypnotized, as if his movements were no longer ruled by his will. He took his cock out and slid his palm down his erection, relishing the perverse feeling of Snape's eyes on him.

Yes, mouthed Snape wordlessly. He reclined in his armchair and seemingly thoughtlessly brushed his hand over the place where the cloth of his trousers tented over his erection.

Filch held his breath. Lying alone in the bed at the night he often fantasized about Snape masturbating just for him, just to please him. Filch was almost afraid to hope.

Snape followed every move of Filch's palm and it was it seemed he mirrored every motion with his hand.

When Snape began rubbing himself through his trousers, Filch moaned quietly and silently encouraged his Potions master to take the trousers off, grab his cock and jerk off right there, only for his eyes, like it happened so many times in the confines of Filch's imagination.

Snape pulled his hand away, as though his actions suddenly scared him.

"Please," breathed Filch.

Snape cocked his head to one side. Then he slowly, as if not quite decided, unbuttoned his trousers.

Filch gripped the base of his cock to put off his orgasm, which welled in him like a hot spring. He didn't want to come just yet, not before he saw Snape wanking.

Snape stood up, pulling his trousers down to his knees.

Filch promptly followed him, shamelessly spreading his legs as far as he could.

Snape parted his legs much less readily. His face was flushed pink and Filch found the possibility that his professor was embarrassed incredibly sexy. To serve as an example, he rubbed himself again. With his other hand he played with his balls, watching Snape lick his lips and pull down his underwear. The sight alone of Snape's cock glistening with arousal and the prospect that Snape was going to touch it almost made Filch come.

Snape avoided his eyes – something Filch had never seen him do. And then he lightly, almost hesitantly brushed the tips of his fingers over his cock.

"Yes," Filch couldn't contain himself.

Snape looked up, his eyes alight with unusual delight.

"Beautiful," murmured Filch.

The corners of Snape's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. Snape slid his long fingers over his cock, watching Filch. He caressed its smooth head and with each stroke his breathing was becoming heavier with arousal. He sighed softly.

Filch had never seen anything more beautiful. He noticed Snape didn't pull the foreskin down completely and the way he rubbed fingers over his head, and with the other hand gently squeezed his ball sack. The muscles of Snape's thin thighs were straining.

With a groan, Filch came.

Snape closed his eyes, his head fell back an the hand on his cock sped up.

Filch slid down from his armchair and crawled on his knees to watch Snape closely. Snape's long thin fingers clutched his cock yet more tightly and harshly. His moaning gained in intensity, too.

Filch watched white sperm spill over Snape's hand. Of his own volition he bent down and tasted it on the tip of his tongue. It tasted warm but lacked any distinct flavour. He leaned on the armrests and carefully licked both Snape's softening cock and his fingers clean.

Snape didn't move. His breathing was shallow and uneven and he allowed Filch to do whatever he wanted, as if he were a mere rag doll.

Filch straightened up, kissed Snape on the lips and let him taste his own semen.

When their lips parted Snape averted his head.

Filch pulled away, thinking he should probably go.

"Stay here tonight, Filch," whispered Snape in a strange voice.


	8. Chapter 8

"And Severus, be very careful, they may not take kindly to your appearance after George Weasley's mishap –"

Snape turned at the door.

"Don't worry, Dumbledore," he said coolly. "I have a plan …"

And Snape left the room.

***

Filch quietly opened the door of his quarters and peered out into the dimly lit hallway. No, he didn't imagine it. What he had heard was indeed the sound of the front door closing, and now someone stood in the twilight, brushing off snow from his cloak.

Filch was outraged. So here he is, spending every waking hour cleaning away the mess those little bastards continually make, and someone dares to add more to his work? He was about to snap at the person when a thought made him pause. What if it was one of the abhorrent Carrow twins?

The figure looked in Filch's direction and he froze, preparing to shut the door at the first hint of danger.

"Filch?"

Filch felt relief flood him.

"Headmaster." He greeted Snape with a nod and opened the door wide.

"Why aren't you in the bed, Filch?" asked Snape in a tired voice.

Filch only shrugged because no answer would be good enough.

Snape took of his black gloves and headed for the stairs. He turned over his shoulder, "Are you coming?"

"Ex- excuse me?" stuttered Filch, startled.

Snape, however, didn't turn back, so Filch had no choice but to grab his dressing-gown, pull it over his striped pyjamas and hurry up after him.

***

Filch followed Snape, and it became clear that they were heading to the Headmaster's office. Filch grew nervous by the moment. He wasn't aware of having neglected his duties as a caretaker but there were the Carrows – despicable wizarding scum, who treated him like dirt. Those two might have come up with a complaint against him. But, surely, Snape would take his side in that case.

While doubts ate at Filch, they had reached the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

Snape said the password, "Dumbledore", and it seemed and it seemed to Filch as if the word was spat out of his mouth to get rid of its awful taste.

They had never spoken about the manner of Dumbledore's death. Filch didn't find it all that important. Dumbledore was the worst thing that had ever happened to the school.

Snape entered the office, took off his cloak and threw it over his desk, not caring about the parchments littering it.

Filch heard Dumbledore's portrait ask, "How did it go, Severus?"

Snape took out a half-empty bottle from his desk and poured himself an inch of firewhisky.

"Severus, tell me, how did it go? You know how important this is," Dumbledore pressed him.

Snape drank the contents of his glass in one go and slammed the glass back on his desk.

"Were you successful, Severus? Didn't anyone see you? Did Harry get the sword?" It seemed that Snape's silence made Dumbledore anxious. "Severus!"

Snape looked at the portrait of his predecessor with distaste.

"It's freezing out there, the snow and the wind are in full force, I was there catching cold for Merlin knows how long, and the only thing you are interested in is whether I've done what you wanted," snapped Snape irritably.

Filch stood behind the half-open door, wondering if he shouldn't better go back. He felt uncomfortable there.

"It doesn't even occur to you to let me take a rest, to ask me if I'm all right; all you care about is your cause," hissed Snape.

Filch turned to quietly descend the stairs when Snape sharply barked, "Filch, where are you!?"

Filch reluctantly returned and entered the office. He felt as if all eyes were on him. Professor Dumbledore in his portrait frowned at him over the rim of his half-moon glasses.

"Severus, it's your –" began Dumbledore but Snape cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"You know what, Dumbledore? I have business here with Mr Filch which can't wait. So if all of you could kindly excuse us ..."

Dumbledore's expression was uncomprehending.

"You have portraits all over the place, so would you please get lost for a moment?!" barked Snape.

"I'd say the two of us have more urgent matters to discuss," objected Dumbledore.

"No, we have not," retorted Snape and swept the portraits of the past headmasters and headmistresses with a glare. "You are supposed to serve the headmaster of this school. Whether you like it or not, I happen to be a rightful headmaster of this school."

After those words the headmasters and headmistresses slipped, one by one and with much complaining, out of their frames. Dumbledore stayed last.

"I've meant you as well," snapped Snape.

"Severus," tried Dumbledore once more.

"Either go away or the consequences are on your head," hissed Snape and gestured for Filch to come closer.

Bewildered, Filch made a few steps towards Snape, his eyes darting from the current headmaster to the late and back.

Dumbledore sighed and disappeared from his frame.

To Filch's amazement, Snape took off his robe without a word, unbuttoned his shirt and pulled down his trousers together with the underwear. Then he pulled the armchair away from his desk, comfortably settled in it and threw one leg over the armrest.

Filch felt blood pool in his groin at the sight.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Filch?" prompted him Snape.

Filch went to his knees and licked Snape's quiescent cock. It was still cold from outside and his warm tongue must have tingled Snape pleasantly.

"Yes," sighed Snape burying his fingers in Filch's hair. "Lick it, Filch ... yes, that's it ..."

Filch slid his tongue over Snape's balls, licked the hardening cock, and with one hand took out his own cock from his pyjamas to stroke himself and quivered with delight from Snape's praise.

Snape leaned his head back and moaned in contentment.

Neither of them noticed that Professor Dumbledore returned to his frame for a second, just to peer in. When he saw his former caretaker licking his former Potions Master's balls, Dumbledore paled and hastily retreated.

"E-enough," Snape choked out.

Filch pulled away and licked his lips, curious what the headmaster's next wish was going to be.

"Take off your clothes," said Snape gently as he got up.

Filch noted with satisfaction that Snape's legs were shaking a bit. He quickly shed his dressing gown and pyjamas and provocatively stroked his cock.

Snape pushed his hand away and fondled his erection with his own hand a bit. Then he whipped off his cloak from the desk together with most of the paperwork beneath it. Filch understood at once and lowered himself onto the cool, polished wood. He assumed Snape would take him now – hard and fast – and his cock throbbed.

Snape spread Filch's legs and then knelt down. Filch gave a hiss and then a drawn-out moan escaped him when he felt the headmaster's tongue on his hole. The tongue circled around, teasing, and experimentally pushed in. Filch clutched the edge of the desk tightly. He had never even dreamed about that. When Snape took his cock in his mouth Filch almost came right then and there just from the fact that it was Snape, Headmaster Severus Snape.

Headmaster Severus Snape was giving him a blow job!

"God!" groaned Filch.

Snape straightened up and pushed inside in one thrust.

"Yes," moaned Filch when Snape began thrusting hard and wild. Dominance suited the headmaster so well.

They fucked as if their lives depended on it.

As if there would be no tomorrow.

***

Filch entered the Great Hall, which was in shambles. Upon seeing it, Filch took Mrs Norris into his arms.

The bodies lined up on the floor were yet to be moved. With an embarrassed expression, Professor Slughorn held a shaken Professor McGonagall around her shoulders. Professor Sprout repeated over and over that there had to be a dignified funeral arranged for the dead but she didn't lift a finger. Students huddled together with their parents.

There was no one to secure order. No one to decide what should be done first and what next. To bring a semblance of normalcy to this chaos.

With some difficulty, Filch made his way towards Professor McGonagall.

"Where's the headmaster?" he asked.

Professor McGonagall's face turned ashen and suddenly she seemed more exhausted.

"Don't you know?" asked Slughorn in surprise.

Filch felt his throat constricting.

"Don't know what?" he rasped out.

The headmaster ... Severus ... he is a hero," said Professor McGonagall.

"W-what do you mean?" whispered Filch and hugged Mrs Norris tightly as if she were his shield, the only steady point of his crumbling life.

"He has laid his life for the right thing." said Slughorn. "I'm proud to have taught him. Truly proud. I knew the boy would accomplish great things one day. I knew it."

But Filch wasn't listening to him. He felt as if a huge bottomless pit had opened in his heart.

"No," he breathed. "No, that ... that can't be."

"It's the truth, Filch." Professor McGonagall laid her hand on his shoulder. "We were wrong about him. He was ... a remarkable man ... despite everything."

Filch pulled away from her touch and staggered out of the Great Hall. And then he huddled on the mattress in their old classroom in the dungeons, choking on bitter tears.

***

Filch watched his reflection in the polished black marble and, as always, felt empty. All those years seemed so far away that he sometimes asked himself if it weren't but a dream and he now cherished only its aftermath.

As usual, Filch again realised with bitterness that he never said goodbye to him.

No posthumous award, and Snape received plenty of those, could express what an exceptional person he had been.

Filch sighed. Mrs Norris was often away lately, which troubled Filch because apart from her he didn't have much left in life.

Apart from her and a gravestone of black marble.

"The Potter boy has arrived for his first year. Just like his father – didn't wipe his boots on the doormat either. They'll never change, they'll never appreciate hard work." Filch moved a gravel-stone with the tip of his foot.

"I've asked Slughorn again to expel Peeves from Hogwarts, and to no avail, as usual. I can't understand why the poltergeist is tolerated here. The young one who's still teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts doesn't look so bad after all. Yesterday, she took points from one snotty brat for throwing dungbombs in the halls." Filch thrust his hands into his pockets. Autumn had come fairly soon this year.

"But that good-for-nothing who teaches Potions – well – imagine he tried to reorganize your cabinet of poisons yesterday. Naturally, I've properly berated him. I told him you didn't wish anyone to touch it. Oh, and Slytherin won the first match of the season and young Malfoy – well, you know how the Malfoys are better than me." Filch paused. "Mrs Norris is away all the time, lately. Don't know what to do about it," he complained. "Oh, and I've repaired that door," he added and fell silent for a long while.

"Well, I'd better be on my way," said Filch finally, bent down and laid one red rose with a long stem on the black marble.

The silver inscription said:

SEVERUS SNAPE  
The bravest Slytherin Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
born 9. 1. 1960

 

A dead leaf stuck to the date of death. Filch brushed it off and looked at the two numbers with sadness. Mrs Norris entwined his ankles, meowing to get his attention.

Filch peered down and saw that his cat had brought him a kitten. Filch took the small furry creature in his hand. It was coal black, with intelligent green eyes that pierced him right through. Filch caressed the kitten and turned to go back to the castle.  
"What are we going to call him, my sweet?" he asked Mrs Norris. "What would you say if we called him Mr Snape?"

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Dialogue at the beginning of this chapter is taken from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, UK edition, p. 553.


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